Taming The Beast
by PurpleSketch
Summary: Choosing to spare The Beast's life, the Woodsman decides to try and show him that humanity isn't such a bad thing.
1. The Encounter

The trees were silent with a resilient stiffness in their branches. A boy, transporting a child in his arms, was aggressively pushing his way through the woodland's brushes. A single bluebird flew away from the boy. Two figures were left alone in the murkiness of the woods. Only a lantern giving light to the gloom. The trees seemed to be observing the encounter with great interest as a lone man stood facing a monstrous ethereal figure with antlers.

The Beast stood observing the Woodsman as the man clutched the opened lantern close to his face. All the Woodsman had to do was blow out that flame, and it would end the monster before him. Woodsman drew in a sharp breath, barely aware of the Beast's pleads, but he wavered. What if his daughter was indeed within the lantern, nevertheless, he knew she wouldn't want him to extinguish lost souls just to preserve her in a prison. Glancing up, he saw the Beast trembling. He wasn't sure if it was from fear or rage… probably both. The Beast locked eyes with the Woodsman as they stared into each other's souls. A gust of eerie wind blew the trees around them, causing the flame to flicker within the lantern. The Beast hissed silently, placing an arm across his chest, visibly trying to hide the pain the wind caused against his flame. Sighing, the Woodsman gently closed the lantern. The Beast seemed stunned by the action, and only stood there soundlessly, waiting for a chance to snatch his lantern,

"You're pathetic," The Woodsman murmured turning away from the beast as a tear fell from his eye. The Beast was unsure if he was in fact speaking to him and decided to stay silent. However, the Beast felt uneasy and began to inch closer to the Woodsman eager to strike him down. The Woodsman rapidly swung around, axe in hand, and directed a blow at the Beast. The Beast countered swiftly and forcibly moved back, but he was sluggish from his dimming flame, resulting with his arm being carved in the process. The Beast let out a deep growl of pain as his eyes became red with rage. The Beast screamed,

"How dare you! You wretched, pitiful, human!" he lunged forward wanting to shred the Woodsman into strips. The Woodsman swiftly raised the lantern up, and swinging it open, blew on the fire. The fire appeared to shriek in protest as it shriveled into a small flickering flame. In turn, the Beast screeched in torment and collapsed on the ground hugging himself to help dull the pain. The Woodsman drew closer holding the lantern nearby. He could see murky sludge secreting from the Beast's injured arm. The Beast was weak, he closed his eyes feebly, and could only lay there scarcely breathing. The Beast's energy and life dwindling away with his wilting flame. Strangely, the Woodsman was feeling slight pity for the monster, only to some extent, but part of him knew the Beast deserved this. Gazing into the lantern's light an idea occurred to him, maybe the Woodsman wouldn't have to live alone anymore. Moreover, he knew his daughter would be greatly saddened if he slaughtered an injured creature out of spite, even if he believed the death of the Beast was justified. Turning around, the Woodsman seized some edelwood branches left behind from Wirt's younger brother and placed them in his pack. The Woodsman approached the Beast again and set to the task of relocating the monster to his lodge.


	2. Home Sweet Home

It took some effort, and a great deal of patience, but the Woodsman succeeded in dragging the Beast back to his meek cabin, granted, the journey to the lodge had some complications with his… passenger. The Beast kept throwing hissing fits and growls, not to mention the muttered death threats and the Beast's antlers constantly getting caught in everything, which certainly kept the Woodsman busy. Now he was standing above the Beast in the middle of his compact cabin. His cabin was not a spectacle to witness but it had everything necessary to defend him from the harsh climate outside. Currently, they were in the living room were a creature's hide adorned the floor and a hefty brick fireplace resided, to the left was two basic bedchambers each with a bed and chest of drawers, directly above them was a minuscule wood table with two matching timber chairs, and to the right was a petite kitchen with a tarnished stove and filthy cabinets, in addition, located perpendicular to the kitchen was a grimy stairway leading to the cellar. Sighing, the Woodsman was faintly troubled with the puddles of the Beast's shadowy sludge that was causing a dreadful mess. Deciding it was crucial to conceal the injured arm the Woodsman hastily progressed to a cupboard to snatch some required supplies.

While the Woodsman left the Beast's side the Beast struggled to get up on unsteady arms, yet his arms wouldn't tolerate his weight and in turn, caused him to come colliding down against the floor. He groaned out in pain and clutched his injured right arm close to his torso. He was mad, no, furious! He was confined to his enemy's dirty floor and he was in so much agony. Not only did his arm throb in pain but his antlers ached, and his very soul was in anguish. If only his lantern could be fed, maybe it could help lift some of his discomforts. The Woodsman was accountable for his misery, and he would surely pay once he could get himself off of this goddamn floor! Again the Beast violently pushed himself up, it took him a moment before he realized that the Woodsman was at his side saying something to him. The Woodsman kept gently pushing him back onto the floor, but the Beast refused to listen, he would not let the Woodsman command him! He lashed out at the Woodsman, who took a step back, the Beast was too weak to deal any real damage nor be quick enough to cause any. Besides, the Woodsman has dealt with wounded creatures before and recognized how hazardous they can be in their frail state. The Woodsman was debating on allowing the Beast to bleed a tad more, with any luck it would make the Beast too groggy to move, but he wasn't certain if he could take that risk. Watching the Beast flail about on his floor did fill him with some dark amusement. To think, this creature is the cause for so much pain and now was nothing but a sick creature thrashing about on his floor. How easy it would be to just let him perish… yet something was holding him back. Realizing that the room was becoming frigid the Woodsman decided to go out and gather some wood for the hearth. He knew the Beast was too frail to really move, nor did he really care, and believed it would be best to let him calm down. Turning around the Woodsman left the Beast in the dark gloom alone.


	3. Alone

The Beast's consciousness seemed to fade back bringing with it some very foggy memories. Forcing himself to focus, and lifting his head, he glanced at his surroundings. He was in a cabin, and not just any cabin, the Woodsman's cabin.  
"The Woodsman…" The Beast whispered in a sore voice. His rage bubbling within him but rapidly diminishing with fatigue. He collapsed his head on the ground and laid there in muteness. His mind gradually causing paranoia to creep within him. The Woodsman would return… and he would surely end him. The Beast couldn't help but begin to panic at the thought of dying. He couldn't die yet! The coward in him wanted to run and hide. With his anxiety mounting, he perceived the darkness in room increasing and becoming wicked. He was isolated in the dark… dying. He was going to die alone. That thought astonishingly troubled him. He didn't think to die alone would have alarmed him this much, but he did formerly plan on living endlessly. He would be disgusted to admit this new found fear to any living creature… but he was undeniably frightened. It seemed like he had been lying there for hours, and the room appeared to be growing more frigid as time continued on. His eyes began to sting as he started to cry, delirious from blood loss, /div  
"I don't want to die…" The Beast blubbered out while he was crying. Lying on the cold floor in his own pool of blood mixed with tears the Beast deliberately was making claw marks through the floor.  
At that very instant the Woodsman opened the front door, letting a flurry of wind enter the room. The Woodsman set the fired wood on the floor and, with his ax still in hand, went to check on the Beast. Pure shock ran through his veins at what he saw The Beast did calm down from his rage but was now just a crying mess. The Beast looked up at the Woodsman with large tear-filled eyes and saw his cutting ax in hand, which made the Beast cry even more and recoil in fear,/div  
"Pl-please… Woodsman… I don't want to die," the Woodsman gently put his ax off to the side and raised his hands in a gesture to show he was not a threat. Slowly, he began to approach the Beast,  
"Beast… listen it's alright," The Woodsman stooped down next to the Beast, the Beast compulsorily tried to thrust himself as far away from the Woodsman as possible. The Woodsman placed a hand onto the creature. He could feel the Beast trembling from his tears and the softness of his fur. Trying to keep his actions slow he removed his backpack from his back, and carefully he pulled out a roll of linen cloth. He got up again and briskly walked to the kitchen. The Beast was too delusional to really pay any attention to what the Woodsman was doing. Why would it matter? The Woodsman would kill him anyway… right?  
The Beast heard the Woodsman return and felt him kneeling next to him. The Beast stopped trying to shove the Woodsman away, he was far too exhausted, and only laid there. Woodsman took the opportunity to quickly work on the Beast's injuries. Silence fell on them both as the Woodsman worked.


	4. Nightmare Muck

As soon as the Woodsman finished his task he stood back to examine his work. He was pleased with the results. He saw no major mistakes and it felt sturdy. It wasn't until after his examination that he noticed the Beast had fallen asleep from exhaustion. He didn't even know that the Beast was capable of sleep. Meaning he could become tired. A tool the Woodsman planned to use one day. Until then... the Beast looked so vulnerable in his current state. It was so strange to see yet, in a bizarre way, it was a little adorable too. He had to remind himself he was watching a being whose name was literally THE Beast. And said Beast has killed who knows how many lost souls. A part of the Woodsman yelled out that even he, himself, had helped destroy the remains of so many of those lost souls. No. He was tricked. He didn't know. It was The Beast who manipulated him. He needed to be cautious.

The woodsman began to feel the cold seep into his skin. He leaned over and plucked the firewood from the floor and quickly filled the stone fireplace. With a single match, the Woodsman was able to start a fire. The room was filled with a warm orange glow. After watching the flames for a couple of minutes, the Woodsman slowly turned his attention back to the Beast. He noticed all the black goo that leaked onto the floor from the Beast's wound. The dark gunk covered a large portion of the pelt rug, seeping through to the wooden floor. Said wooden floor was now slowly absorbing the inky darkness. It was definitely going to stain the wood. The Woodsman hoped that he could at least save the rug. He needed to move the Beast to reach the rug, which was steadily being consumed by the nightmare muck every minute.

The Woodsman grabbed the Beast's legs and expected to feel fur under his hands. What he felt was far from fur. He felt icy, hard, and cavity covered flesh just under his own fingertips. The Woodsman jumped back with a gasp. He attempted to catch his breath before slowly creeping closer to the Beast once more. Prepared this time, he once again got a hold of the Beast's legs, refusing to acknowledge the unsettling feeling, and yanked with full force. He successfully dragged the Beast off of the rug. They were both close to one of the bedrooms now. Sighing the Woodsman decided he might as well get the Beast completely off of the floor. He would simply place the Beast in his bed and he would sleep in his daughter's room. He stood there as he reminisced about his daughter. Picking flowers together, hiding in fall leaves, collecting firewood. He had to quickly shove the memories back into the darkest corners of his mind. He needed to focus on the now.

Crouching down he placed one arm under the Beast's legs and the other under his back. The Woodsman took a couple of deep breaths before hauling the Beast off of the floor. The sudden motion didn't wake the poor Beast. Quickly the Woodsman moved to his bedroom. Once again, the Beast's antlers made it slightly difficult to get through the door frame, but he managed to get them both in the room. He dropped the Beast into his bed and paused. Absorbing the strangest sight he had ever seen. The Beast was asleep in his bed. The Woodsman shook his head. He placed a blanket over the Beast then swiftly left the room.

The Woodsman stooped down and peeled the rug off of the floor. He watched a glob of sludge drip off of it. Seeing the damage he decided it would be best to take it to the river to clean. He snatched his bag off of the floor and threw it on, grabbed the lantern out of habit, before exiting the cabin. Leaving the sleeping Beast alone once again.

* * *

The first thing the Beast felt was a brisk coldness. Next was an intense stinging pain in his arm. Lastly, alone. There was no Woodsman near him. Laying there The Beast cringed from his last interaction with the Woodsman. He had a blurry memory of him begging and crying to the Woodsman. Growling, the embarrassment quickly turned to rage. It was the Woodsman's fault that the Beast was in this inferior state.

The Beast pushed himself up in bed. Bad idea. He flinched as the pain in his arm spiked. He grabbed the cover and pulled it tightly around him as he forced himself to climb out of the bed. He couldn't help but shiver from the cold. The loss of blood wasn't helping his case. Expertly maneuvering his antlers, he bent down and through the doorway. Once he entered the living room he noticed the fire and his blood stain on the wooden floor. The Beast could have sworn that there was a rug there before but his memory was greatly distorted from his previous delusional state. Maybe there was never a rug, to begin with. Although, that would explain the Woodsman's being absent. Frustration slowly started to build inside the Beast. He would have to bid his time before he can release his anger.

A sharp pain bit his soul. He arched over in response. His flame needed to be fed. The Beast sluggishly looked around the small cabin. His lantern was nowhere in sight. The Woodsman must have it. Shaking his anglers he shuffled closer to the fire. It felt nice against his cold skin. He sat in front of it as he gazed into the flames. It slowly transfixed him. He pulled the cover tighter around himself. He awaited the Woodsman's return.


End file.
